


In the Dark of Night

by TheAuburnGirl



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied Rumbelle, Rumbelle AU - Freeform, Rumbelle Golden Compass AU, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuburnGirl/pseuds/TheAuburnGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is the only person in two hundred years who can read the Alethiometer, and the Magisterium is after her.  Unfortunately for her, Sir Raeburn Gold is one of the institution’s avid supporters. A short Rumbelle AU of ‘The Golden Compass’ or 'His Dark Materials Trilogy'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle and her daemon moved through the darkening streets, taking care to keep to the shadows and along the canal.  It would be suicide to stray far, for the channel was their way to freedom, its waters offering precious passage for the Gyptian boat that would arrive in two hours to save them from the Magisterium.  Bobbing boats littered the channel’s side, offering cozy nooks and crannies to hide in until the rendezvous.  Belle reached out, and seeing no one, climbed into a boat, careful not to slip on the dock’s boards and create a fuss. 

She tucked in underneath a set of wooden stairs and let out a low sigh of relief.  All was quiet and still. 

“That was close,” her daemon whispered, swooping down to nest in her arms.  “The docks were empty as far as I could see, though I can’t be sure about the other side of the canal.”

Her daemon’s name was Altair, and he had settled into a beautiful barn owl when she’d matured at the age of sixteen. 

“Hopefully no one saw us then,” Belle whispered back, allowing her eyes to scan the shifting surface of the black water surrounding them.  Night had set in hours ago and she was grateful Altair could see in the darkness.

The boat rocked gently in the canal’s small waves, lulling them into a relaxed stupor.  They had been running and hiding for days without proper sleep, barely avoiding the Magisterium’s officers and patrons, and had reached their breaking point. 

“How can you be so sure they’ll come?” he wondered, hooting very lowly in her ear.

“Because if there’s anything I know about Gyptians, it’s that they don’t abandon their blood.  Besides, even though it’s been eight years, I know they remember me.  They’ll come,” she told him very quietly.  Her hands strayed to his feathers and absently stroked them.  “What do you think the Magisterium has done with the alethiometer?”

Altair snorted, though it came out sounding more like a soft screech.  “Probably driven themselves mad trying to sort it out, I reckon.  Why else would they be after us?”

“Fair point.” 

An alethiometer was a round, golden compass-like device that told the truth.  Its name literally meant “truth measuring-device”, and those who wielded the gift to read it were very rare and powerful.  Symbols ran along its outer rim, each with a different meaning, while four needles pointed from the center toward the rim. The Magisterium had searched for years, trying to find someone who could manipulate the instrument’s three main needles and know which symbols to place them on.  If the alignment of the needles was correct for a particular question, the alethiometer’s fourth needle would spin, settle on the symbols, and tell the truth.  The trick was understanding the meaning behind the symbols.

Belle was the first person they’d found in two hundred years who could read and understand the alethiometer. 

She’d discovered the ability when her father Maurice French—a collector of all things valuable—gave her an alethiometer for her eighteenth birthday.  Had he known what it was at the time, Belle was sure he would have hidden it.  Alas, fate played them a terrible blow and the Magisterium discovered the existence of the alethiometer in Oxford where they were living.  They would have only collected the instrument if they hadn’t caught her using it on the docks.

Yet that was weeks ago, and her father was now dead.  He’d died at the hands of the Magisterium’s officers, lying even in torture about her whereabouts. 

“You miss him,” Altair whispered, stroking his feathered head against her neck.  As her daemon, he felt and experienced her thoughts and emotions—and vice versa for Belle.

She peered into the cloudless, star-speckled sky and nodded slowly.  Her papa had been an educated man and she had loved him dearly.  The afternoons spent on the quiet riverbank learning about ever gadget and gizmo, instrument and invention known to her papa had been the best in her life. “Someone’s coming!”

Altair’s hiss of warning sounded in her ears, and in a flash, Belle was curled into a tiny ball and had closed her eyes.  It was her best form of silent defense.  Eyes glittered in light and could give away their position.

Loud footsteps sounded on the boards of the dock, followed by a soft scratching of nails and pattering of breath.  If she had to guess, the intruder was a heavyset man with a dog for a daemon. 

The footsteps continued for ten paces before coming to a stop.  Then a loud voice said, “I know you’re here, and more men are coming.  Why don’t ‘ye come out and make this easier for ‘oth of us?”

Belle kept her eyes firmly closed, trusting in her daemon to warn her if the man discovered them.  Her heartbeat thrummed like the wings of a hummingbird, deafening her senses, and then everything came into focus when Altair tweeted frantically, “His daemon smells your fear!”

As he said it, the man gave a triumphant grunt of glee and called, “Found ‘ye.”

“No,” Belle murmured, opening her eyes to see a set of legs moving fast and approaching their position.  She was right about his dog of a daemon because the beast began yowling and galloping along the slick boards, headed their way. 

“Run!  I’ll fly out above,” Altair cried, and quick as lightning, tore into the starry sky.  “Run!”

“There ‘e is, Aesina!  The girl must be in the boat!”

Belle bristled with anxiety and tore over the wooden rail of the boat.  Seeing her, the man’s daemon snarled and charged, though it was thrown into confusion when Altair screeched, dipped down, and tore at its hackles.  The man gave a shout of pain, feeling his daemon’s injury. “Get off of ‘er you mangy bird, get off!” he yelled, pattering down the row with an uneven gait. 

Altair shifted and dug his claws into the daemon’s face.  The daemon barked, whining in its effort to protect itself.  Though, as soon as the attack came, it left, for Altair retreated out of the man’s range.  He dipped out over the water, circling the sky.  “More people are coming!” he told her.  “We have to go, Belle!  Go right!  Right!  Jump from boat to boat!”

Heart pounding, Belle sprinted down the row and launched herself into the nearest boat.  She landed easily, though her knees buckled in the effort to keep her body balanced.  The next boat was harder, but the sounds of pursuit behind her kept her moving.  Altair swept overhead, screeching at her to move faster.  “Belle, they’re right behind you!”  Terror cracked his voice.  “Watch out!”  That was her only warning before something solid slammed into her from behind.

Belle hit the deck hard, nearly cracking her skull against its wooden steps.  She gasped out and struggled to stand, but a rough pair of arms pinned her.  “Altair!” she shrieked.  “Altair!”  But when she looked to the sky, she realized he was fighting another man’s daemon.  A massive hawk pecked viciously at his feathers.  “Oh, God.  No!”

The strong arms checked her to the boards and her answering cry echoed into the night.  “Don’t hurt her!” someone demanded, and this time, Belle couldn’t tell where the voice came from.  From her angle, she could see that there were at least five men.  All were dressed in black, which allowed them to blend into the darkness of the night.  “Sir Gold wants her unscathed!  You bloody idiot—she’s bleeding!”

Belle should have been more concerned about the blood soaking her hair, but the name ‘Gold’ made her still.  Her blood ran cold and horror shot through her body faster than adrenaline.  If it was the same ‘Sir Gold’ she’d heard of during her short studies at Oxford and in the private offices of Oxford’s finest men, she was doomed. 

Sir Raeburn Gold was one of the Magisterium’s most loyal supporters.  He annually donated a large portion of his wealth to the Magisterium and had vast connections the Magisterium often made use of.  His deals ran far and wide, and almost every business and invention had his name stamped on it.  Simply put: he was powerful.  If he wanted Belle, he would get his hands on her. 

A cloth was pressed to her temple.  She moaned out in pain at the pressure, still struggling to be free of the vice-like grip that pinned her.  Overhead, Altair shrieked and fought in a blur of claws and feathers.  He battled a hawk nearly twice his size, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed.  They were caught. 

“Call your daemon off,” one of the men hissed in her ear.  “We’ve got you, and you ain’t getting away.  Call him off and save us all the trouble.”  Belle cringed at the smell of his putrid breath.  She coughed, feeling her vision swim, and cried out brokenly:

“Enough, Altair!  Enough!”

Her brave, fierce daemon cried out in dismay at her orders, and immediately dipped down to land and hide in the crook of her neck.  He was shaking, she realized with a shock.  Blood spattered his white feathers, like blood splashed on snow.  Gently, she clutched him closer to her skin, tenderly stroking his feathered head.  He was so brave... 

“Look!  Even her daemon is hurt, you bloody fools!” the man who’d cautioned them earlier spat.  “Sir Gold’ll whip us for this!  He specifically said he wanted her and her daemon unharmed.  She’s no good to the Magisterium bashed and bloodied, now is she?” 

There was a rumble of displeasure, and the man who’d hunted her down and hurt her was roughly cuffed on the head.  Then, moving with swift precision, they tied Belle’s hands behind her back and lifted her to her feet.  She wobbled, feeling sick, and one of them had to put an arm out to keep her from falling.

“We’ve been out ‘ere too long!  Let’s move!  The sooner we get ‘er to Sir Gold, the better!” 

Forced to half-walk and half-stumble, Belle was led by the group of men down the dock.  At first she thought they were headed for the road, but as time passed, and they did not stray far from the river, she began to feel hope.  As long as she was close to the river, the Gyptians had a chance of finding her.   

They stuck to the shadows, careful not to let their footsteps echo on the cobblestones.  The men’s daemons prowled the area, trotting or flying close to their humans, and Belle was too intimidated by them to flee.  She was outnumbered, battered, and bleeding.  She stood no chance against five men and their quick daemons. 

Altair tucked himself against her cheek as they traveled and hooted lowly in her ear.  “Can you make a run for it?”  She shook her head, biting her lip.  Oh how her head _pounded_. “Belle, you’ve heard of Gold.  We have to escape or else we’re done for.  He’ll hand us right over to the Magisterium.”

“I can barely stand straight,” she whispered to him, “and you’re in no shape to fly right now.”

A rough hand gripped her shoulder.  “Stop talking!” the man with the dog for a daemon growled against her ear.  She yelped at the pressure and tried to shove him away, almost upsetting Altair on her shoulder.

“Don’t touch her, you idiot!  You’re the one who busted her head.  You want to get in even more shit?” 

“She was talkin’ with ‘er daemon.  They were conspirin’ together!” he defended himself. 

“Enough!  We’re here!” 

Belle’s eye widened.  They had not gone far from the docks and, if she was not mistaken, her rendezvous was less than a mile away.  Her eyes flashed to the wealthy townhouses sitting on the edge of street, overlooking the river, and rested on the most prominent one situated at the end of the lane.  It was well-lit and made of rich, burgundy brick, which was expensive to come by in this day and age. 

“Sir Gold lives here?” she wondered aloud, voice strained.  If she had known he lived very close to her designated collection point, she would not have dared come.   

The men chuckled.  “Sir Gold has been tracking you for days, girl.  He has assets everywhere.”

Her blood instantly ran cold, and Altair fluttered nervously at her shoulder.  She could not comprehend her situation.  The night had started off hopeful but had slowly become worse, and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her things were about to grow even more problematic.

She would have to keep her wits about her.

Maybe she would find a way out of this by the end of the night. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. I made few changes, and now 'Mr. Gold' is referred to as 'Sir Gold'. Also, I'm going a little AU/non-canon with the soulmate stuff, but hopefully you'll like it :) Enjoy!

Belle jumped when one of the men knocked lightly on Sir Gold’s front door.  The sound echoed across the surrounding street, ringing loudly in her ears, and she felt Altair twitter beside her in apprehension.  After a long tense moment, they caught movement through a glass pane to the right side of the door, and a butler opened it.

He was tall and stocky with a severe look in his eye; however, his daemon was a tiny beetle, so she doubted he was too dangerous despite his enormous size.  Still, unable to help it, Belle flinched when the man’s eyes traveled over their group and settled on her.  “This is the girl?” he asked gravely.  He studied her features.  “She’s bleeding.”  Then his attention shifted to Altair.  “And her daemon is too.  Sir Gold specifically ordered you not to harm her or her daemon.”

“Er...well you see, she gave us the slip and we had to chase after her,” the man who had knocked explained.

The butler smirked.  “You let this girl give you the slip?”

Belle rolled her eyes and snorted, while the men shot her dirty looks.  “Can we go in now?” she asked petulantly, ignoring Altair’s warning hoot in her ear.  “It’s cold and I’m a little lightheaded.” 

To her absolute surprise, the butler’s lips twitched upward, like he wanted to smile at her audacity.  “Yes, little lady, you may come in,” he said, standing aside.  She hesitated a second, aware of Altair’s worry, and then stepped over the threshold.  For a brief second, she contemplated making a break for it to determine whether or not she could escape the confines of the house before being re-caught. 

“Don’t,” Altair murmured, sensing the direction of her thoughts.  “Not now.”

Belle nodded, inclined to agree once she studied the townhouse.  It was extravagant, with expensive furniture, perfect lighting, and exquisite paintings.  She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit the place looked fascinating.  Antiques lined the walls, and she guessed Sir Gold was a collector of valuable things.  He was lucky.  From what she had heard, he had amassed so much money, he could buy anything he liked.  With the Magisterium behind him, she was sure he did.

There was a narrow staircase to the right, off-center from the front door.  To her left and right were open rooms meant to allow space for greeting guests and seating them; plush seats decorated both rooms and she spotted a grand piano to the right.  Directly ahead of her was a wide hallway that led further into the reaches of the house, and she glimpsed a spectacular a dining room with connected lounge.

“He’s not letting them in,” Altair said suddenly of the butler, pulling her from her thoughtful inspection.   He had perched himself backwards on her shoulder to watch their backs.  Belle twisted to see the butler keep the men outside and hand them a roll of money.         

“Of course not.  They are merely grunts,” a voice said from the top of the stairs.  Startled, Belle turned and glanced up them.  A slim man dressed in a suit stood at the top, holding a gold-handled cane in his right hand.  “While you, dearie, are important.”  It was Sir Gold, and he was every bit as intimidating as she had imagined.  He was not tall, but from her standpoint, she could sense an aura of power rising off him.  He wore his hair longer than most men, but it complemented his impish features and crooked nose.  Belle’s eyes searched for his daemon, and she found her—a gold-furred fox—curled into his ankles.  Sir Gold’s eyes traveled over her attire and narrowed on her bloodied head and clothes.  “And damaged,” he growled.  “Come.  Let’s check that head of yours.” 

Belle did not move.  She gauged Sir Gold’s measure, meeting his intense stare, and felt goosebumps rise on her skin.  This man was not to be trifled with, she realized.  Everything about him screamed dangerous, and although she had seen her father talk to men like Sir Gold, she had never thought them deadly Sir Gold.

The man appeared to be in his early thirties and the fact shocked her because she had expected an older man to greet her.  Not a man only around ten years her senior.

“Well?” he asked when she did not deign to respond.

Behind her, the butler shut and locked the door.  She flinched at the sudden noise, and spurred herself into action; slowly, she ascended the stairs, swallowing hard as she did so.  Sir Gold studied her more the closer she got, and when she reached the top step, he shifted aside so she could move past.  His golden fox hissed lowly at Altair as they walked by and Altair hooted uncomfortably.

In Belle’s ear, he murmured anxiously, “She says if we try to run, she won’t hesitate to break one of my wings.”

With her bound hands, Belle gently caressed his beak and ruffled his downy feathers.  She could feel his anxiety through their bond.  “It’s going to be okay,” she told him quietly.  “I won’t let her hurt you, and besides, the Magisterium needs us...”  She shuddered at the idea of going to the Magisterium’s headquarters and reading the alethiometer for them; they would be prisoners there for the rest of their lives.  She _had_ to find a way out of this mess before the Gyptian boat arrived in the canal.   

“Dove, bring up a towel and a warm bowl of water,” Sir Gold ordered down to his butler.  After a moment, he added, “And bring up some alcohol as well.”

“Alcohol?” Belle asked.  Curiosity was a large part of her nature and she always asked questions.  Her father had teased her for it numerous times, and the thought of him brought a fresh wave of pain to her chest. 

Sir Gold’s dark eyes met hers.  “For your laceration,” he explained stiffly, turning to herd her down the lavish hall.  He shadowed her as she passed three closed doors and then pointed to the one open room at the end.  “The library shall do for now.” 

“Library” caught Belle’s attention.  She walked through the doorway without any hesitation, and immediately took in the small library’s floor-to-ceiling bookcases, rich seats, and roaring fire in the fireplace.  The room was cozy and warm: a perfect place to sit down and read a book.  She must have stood there a little too long because Sir Gold said wryly behind her, “Impressed easily, are you?”

“I love books,” she explained.

He raised an eyebrow in what she believed was amusement. 

Embarrassed, Belle quickly claimed a seat facing the fire and settled in.  If she was going to be there long, then she might as well try and get comfortable.  But that was easier said than done.  It did not help that she was nervous and her heart was pounding. 

Sensing her sudden discomfort, Altair cuddled into her and twittered gently into her neck in order to help her relax.  “We’re smart,” he whispered soothingly, “We will figure a way out of this, and besides, you are right...the Magisterium _does_ need us.  We can play that to our advantage...” 

The library’s door shut with a click.  “Belle French,” Sir Gold announced, tasting her name on his tongue.  She heard the tap of his cane as he walked around the room.  “The protégé who can read the alethiometer at the age of twenty.  The Magisterium has been on your tail for the past week, dearie.”

She chose not to speak.

“I’ll admit that I am impressed you lasted this long.  Of course, it was only a matter of time before this game of cat and mouse had to come to an end.”  He traversed the side of the room, his face illuminated by the soft lights and fire, and stopped in front of her.  “Hold out your hands.”  She did so cautiously, too uneasy to deny him outright, and nearly flinched when he flipped out a blade. 

“What are you—?”

The slice of bindings cut her off, and she felt the restraining ropes around her wrists fall away.  Sir Gold collected them and placed them in a rolled up bundle on a table with a decanter. 

She heard the tinkle of a glass, and glanced up to find him holding out a goblet of red wine for her to take.  When she did not grasp it, he said, “You look pale.  Drink.”

“How do I know you haven’t laced it with some drug?” she replied.

He chuckled.  The sound was a mere rumble, but it put her on edge.  “You are very clever...  However, if I wanted to drug you, I would have done it already.”  When she gazed at him in disbelief, he sipped from her goblet and swallowed, then handed it back to her.  “How long has it been since you last had a proper meal?” he asked.  “You look rather thin, dearie.”

“A few days.”

“We will get some food in you after your head is tended to.  Can your daemon fly?”

At Belle’s nod, Altair hooted indignantly, and unintentionally caught the attention of Sir Gold’s fox daemon.  Belle studied her more closely, and realized his daemon’s fur was not only gold but several different shades of auburn as well.  She was beautiful—a color Belle had never seen on a daemon before, but she could also tell his daemon was cunning and dangerous.  It was no wonder Sir Gold’s daemon had taken that form permanently, for she suited him well.

Sir Gold eyed Belle like she was a specimen meant to be studied.  He claimed a seat across from her and allowed his daemon to curl on his lap.  “When did you first read an alethiometer?” he asked, stroking his daemon’s fur.  His tone warned her not to lie.

Belle took a sip of her wine and answered, “About two years ago.”

“And the rumors are true?  You learned naturally, without any guidance from your father’s friends at Oxford?”

“Yes.  It’s simple, really.”

An unamused smile twisted Sir Gold’s features.  “Not quite, dearie...”

There was a pause as he appeared lost in his thoughts.

Belle used their short lull in conversation to further inspect the library.  There was a window with two verticals frames beyond Sir Gold’s chair, and it had a lock at its center.  Perhaps they could make their escape through there, but that required verifying if the window overlooked the canal.  They would have to unlock it somehow, when Sir Gold and his daemon were distracted. 

A knock sounded on the door.  “Enter,” Sir Gold ordered.

His butler—Dove—opened the door, holding a tray that sported a bowl of water, a bottle of whisky, and a towel.  “Is there anything else you would like, sir?” he wondered, setting the tray down beside Belle. 

“You have experience cleaning head wounds, yes?” Sir Gold asked, giving his butler a critical look.

“I do.”

“Clean her temple.”

Dove nodded and pulled up a stool before Belle could object.  His daemon sat safely on his shoulder, clicking away at Altair.  They were conversing, Belle noticed, and she guessed Dove’s daemon was of the genial sort, for Altair relaxed immediately. 

When Dove popped the top off the whiskey, he dabbed some on the towel and gave her an apologetic smile.  “This is going to sting, little lady,” he warned her.

She braced herself, but couldn’t help but flinch when he pressed the towel to her still-oozing cut.  Her skin was swollen from the blow to the ground and it felt sore under his careful touch.  She hissed in pain.  “They tackled me to the floorboards of a boat,” she explained with her teeth clenched together, not sure why she was saying anything.  Maybe it was her need to talk to someone other than her daemon.  She and Altair had been alone for days, sticking to dark alleys and corners and keeping out of sight. They had spoken to no one during that time.  “I almost got away.”

Neither man responded to her outburst. 

Dove continued to clean the cut on her temple before using the other end of the towel.  He dipped it in the bowl and set about wiping dried blood from the side of her face and neck.  While he completed his task, Sir Gold watched Belle avidly, searching for something; she found herself unable to meet his gaze, and focused on Altair instead. 

Her daemon’s muscles had uncoiled as he spoke with Dove’s daemon, and she was grateful for that.  Often, Altair worked himself into a feathery mass of coiled anxiety, but most of the time, he calmed when he encountered other sweet-tempered daemons like himself. 

When Dove was done, he handed her the towel and told her to apply pressure to the cut for a few more minutes. 

Sir Gold ordered him to bring up some soup and dismissed him with a curt nod.  “The Magisterium will be here shortly to collect you,” he announced once they were alone.  He gauged her reaction, and his daemon did the same; her fierce amber eyes stalked Altair.

Panic flooded Belle’s system.  She tossed the towel onto the table and set down her goblet of wine.  “So that’s it?” she wondered.  “You capture me and hand me right over to the Magisterium?”

Sir Gold laughed snidely in her face.  He placed his cane between his feet and leaned forward in his chair so that he was level with her.  “You expected anything different?  The Magisterium will utilize your skills and you will want for nothing.”

“What about my freedom?  My free will?  They _murdered_ my _father_.”

“Your fate has been decided, dearie.”

“No one decides my fate but me.”

Blinking at her in irritation, Sir Gold rose from his seat and turned to fill himself a glass of wine.  His daemon slinked after him but kept one eye on Belle and Altair.  This was the one chance Belle would get before the Magisterium arrived, so she pretended she was stroking Altair’s feathers and mumbled very quietly to him, “Window.  Locked.  Canal underneath?”

Altair’s eyes widened comically, but then he nodded to show that he understood what she had planned.  A sense of purpose was shared between them, but right now, it was all up to him.  He would have to fly around the room and check to make certain that, if she jumped through the window, she would land in the canal.  If there was a wide sidewalk between the townhouses and the canal, she might not attempt it. 

“You are young,” Sir Gold said, drinking his wine.  He had turned to assess her body language from across the room.  “You do not understand how the world works.  How the Magisterium works.”

“I know the Magisterium is not good like it wants everyone to believe,” Belle said, standing.  That caught his attention, and he watched her with great mistrust, attempting to figure out her game.

“If you run, I will stop you,” he warned.  He set down his glass with a slight clank and held the handle of his cane in a tight grip.  “Do not approach the door.  Eos will attack your daemon if you do.”

Eos was his daemon’s name, she realized with surprise.  It was unique—representing ‘dawn’—which was a suitable name for a daemon with such golden-colored fur.

Belle chose to play complacent and bowed her head in submission.  It was the perfect ruse for Altair to launch from her shoulder and soar around the room.  He hooted in explanation, showing them his good nature and willingness to cooperate.  Eos’ keen eyes shadowed his every move until he landed gingerly on Belle’s shoulder once more.

“The Gyptians are here!” Altair said quietly under his breath while pretending to thoroughly groom his white, downy feathers.  “You can make the jump.  You distract.  I’ll unlock.”

Belle’s blue eyes lifted to Sir Gold’s dark ones.  The man sensed something was taking place right under his nose and watched her like a hawk.  His posture was tensed, and Eos’ hackles were raised threateningly.  “The Magisterium could teach you so many things, Miss French, and their libraries would be at your disposal.  Go quietly and I can help ease matters along,” he tried to persuade her. 

Belle was unable to hold in her laughter.  “You must think me easy if you believe libraries will win me over.”  Her giggles died into small chortles, and then she yelled, “Now!”

Altair flew from her shoulder and shot straight for the window.  Eos sprang after him, but Belle was faster.  She kicked aside her chair, causing glass to shatter, and dove for the fox daemon.  Before Sir Gold could do anything, she had her arms around his daemon.

It was considered one of the greatest breaches in society to touch another person’s daemon.  As children, it was an undeclared law and decided taboo.  It was common knowledge that the person whose daemon was touched felt repulsion, so Belle—in a split-second decision—lovingly stroked the daemon to calm her. 

The spitting fox daemon instantly quieted.  “It’s okay,” Belle whispered breathlessly, tickling Eos behind the ears.  “It’s okay...”  As if in slow motion, Belle peered up at Sir Gold, expecting to see him furiously charging at her, but she was astonished to find him slouched against the wall, gasping...as if he was experiencing _pleasure_.  His eyes were wide.  He was gazing at her in awe, and she suddenly knew why.

It was said that soulmates only felt pleasure when they touched each other’s daemons, and that touching a person’s daemon was a way to determine who one’s true soulmate was.  Yet Belle had been skeptical because it was taboo...and now she got to watch it happen in person.  To herself.

Oh _no_...

“Belle!” Altair screeched, reminding her of the urgency of their situation. 

Operating on autopilot, Belle broke eye-contact with Sir Gold and released Eos.  She stumbled over broken glass and made a beeline for the open window. Altair fluttered restlessly beyond it, flapping his wings in the cool night air, and she sprinted as fast as she could to get to him.

“Wait!” Sir Gold shouted desperately, barreling towards her. 

He was too late.

Belle dove effortlessly through the window. 

The feeling of falling had always frightened her, so she shut her eyes tightly and waited for the cold sting of the water.  When she hit the surface, the shock of her body hitting the freezing water almost paralyzed her, but she snapped out of her momentary daze and swam for the surface.  The second she breached it, she gasped in air and coughed. 

“Swim, Belle!  Swim!” Altair cried out frantically above her.  He dipped low over the rippling surface of the canal and dug his talons into the back of her shirt.  Then, using his solid grip, he steered her in the right direction, and blindly, Belle started to swim. 

Shouts rang along the wharf, and above them all, she heard Sir Gold bellow, “Stop her!  Don’t let her get away!”  

But the noise had alerted the Gyptian boat to her presence.  They had traveled past her position, and were now working on turning the boat around.  Some Gyptians on deck called her name, while Altair hooted desperately alongside her, “Keep swimming, Belle!  They’re coming!”

Belle tried to swim faster, but the boat was so far away, her soaked clothes weighed her down, and her body was in shock.  Her limbs felt sluggish...  She heard a splash as someone dove in after her, about thirty feet away.  “Belle!” Altair cried out, terrified for their safety.  “The men are coming after us.  The Magisterium is here!”

Heart pounding ferociously, Belle swam harder than she ever had in her life.  She kicked and executed perfect strokes, but whatever effort she put into her form was wasted because of the sheer strength of one of the Magisterium’s officers.  He had jumped in after her, and had set a brutal pace she could not beat, especially in her weakened state.  One of his meaty hands grabbed her left ankle and yanked, causing her to slow progress and swallow a mouthful of water. 

Altair screed above her and dove from the sky, whipping down to claw the man’s hand.  The man’s daemon, a Rottweiler who was doggie-paddling, growled loudly and tried to scare Altair away, while the man’s other hand grasped Belle’s shoulder.  Amidst the chaos, Belle was tugged underneath the surface of the water.  Before she could properly struggle, a foot connected with her temple, and pain exploded behind her eyelids.  She went unconscious. 

When she next woke, there was a high-pitched ringing in her ears.  Water splashed her in the face, and she moaned pitifully, going utterly limp.  Altair had fallen from the sky when she had been knocked out, and he now floated beside her on the surface of the canal. 

“Do not let her or her daemon drown!” Sir Gold’s voice echoed across the water. 

The man who had neutralized her began to tow her toward the sidewalk lining the canal.  His daemon held Altair carefully in her mouth, and to Belle, it appeared they had lost this battle.  She was so dazed she could hardly move a muscle.  But then a miracle happened.

The Gyptian boat loomed up next to them, having cut swiftly through the calm waves, and was now traveling alongside them, twenty feet from the side of the canal.  Shouts rang all around her and three Gyptian men jumped over the edge of the boat.  There were several splashes, and Belle was relieved when they disabled the Magisterium officer holding onto her and reclaimed Altair from his daemon.

“Wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my torso!” a Gyptian ordered, and with what little strength she had left, Belle followed his instructions.  Now free to move, Altair flapped his wings and clung to her soaked shoulder with his claws

A rope ladder was thrown down to them, and the Gyptian she was holding onto began to climb.  He was very strong, and managed to maneuver up the ladder without issue.  Once at the top, multiple sets of hands hauled them onto the deck.  The other two men followed after them, and then it was a race to get the boat up to maximum speed and flee the scene.  For the moment, Belle was forgotten in their race to make a speedy retreat.  Feeling nauseous, she rose shakily to her feet to peer over the wooden side of the boat. 

About ten of the Magisterium’s officers stood at the side of the canal, directly underneath Sir Gold’s lit townhouse.  Her eyes sought out the house’s owner, and when they landed on him, she found him staring at her with a determined expression.  Their eyes met, and there was a fire in his—not because she had eluded the Magisterium, but because she had fled him, especially after altering his world.  They were _soulmates_ whether they wished to be or not.  The connection did not lie, and she knew he would come after her, because in his mind, she was _his_ just like all the other valuable antiques he collected.  He would ensnare her, keep her for himself.  

Belle snorted, and Altair squawked in agreement with her thoughts.

He and his daemon could try, but they would fail. 


End file.
